


I ████ You

by Meepy



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meepy/pseuds/Meepy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she kisses him—a quick, light peck on the lips—he doesn’t kiss her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I ████ You

When she kisses him—a quick, light peck on the lips—he doesn’t kiss her back.

There is no standing-on-tiptoes or tugging on clothing to get closer (no, they are essentially the same height), nor are there any sparks or fireworks alighting their vision. There is nothing particularly sweet like that.  
  
When she kisses him, he doesn’t really know what to do.  
  
Because people don’t kiss—people don’t love monsters like him.  
  
She watches him for a moment, silent, then smiles a _sorry_ (she says things to him now without speaking, signing—and somehow it frightens him) and he dismisses it with a, _Nothing to be sorry about_.  
  
Because he doesn’t want her to be sorry about him—about them.  
  
(He’s had enough of _being sorry_.)

* * *

She cries like it’s her first time.  
  
And maybe it is her first time; something like this, with someone like him.  
  
He’s hurting her, probably, and it’s not like he really wants to (no, not anymore). He’s never been a _gentle soul_ , not for as long as he can remember. But he’s tried to be gentle with Nina at least, and he suppresses a chuckle because, really, he shouldn’t be thinking about a little girl like her when he’s doing something like this. (His hands are still so rough and she’s tugging on his hair.)  
  
It’s hard to kiss her.  
  
Well, technically not. Because he kisses her everywhere: on the neck, shoulder, chest—but he stops himself when their lips come close.  
  
Those kinds of kisses speak volumes without speaking.  
  
For her, the name Barry still haunts. (She doesn’t say—doesn’t have to—but there was no _kissing_ in her previous occupation). And him—well, actions have always meant more than words to him.  
  
And he doesn’t want it to be said.  
  
At least, not now.  
  
She stops, hands easing from his scalp and he looks at her. She’s focused, gaze firm, and she mouths something to him.  
  
He closes his eyes.  
  
(When he leaves, she doesn’t cry like it’s the last time.)

**Author's Note:**

> A pseudo-sequel to "Cold Hands". Not that I actually wrote this as a sequel, but you can totally pretend they're related. Nor do you have to read the other story to understand this, anyway.  
> The alternate title to this is "Quiet Words", so they'd be "Cold Hands and Quiet Words" together which might actually sound cool.
> 
> Cross-posted from tumblr/ff.net.


End file.
